


Add Color to My Sunset Sky

by kakakacuhaku (psycheros)



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 18:36:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8295922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psycheros/pseuds/kakakacuhaku
Summary: The world was ending in the hands of the undead. To defeat the undead, they created super soldier. What a time to be alive.





	

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by Train to Busan

Tough time asked for a tough leader. He guessed, in a sense, Commander Rika had sacrificed herself to fill the position. Someone had to do it—holding poison in one hand and honey in the other—the hero and the villain all at once.

If it wasn’t for her, the Fort would have fallen a long time ago. If she didn’t order a complete annihilation to the neighboring infected towns, they wouldn’t have survived. If she didn’t pay close attention to their population, sending the sick and the weak to the outer border to die, they wouldn’t have made it this far. She was ruthless at best, completely inhuman at the worst, but she kept things going and for that everyone in the Fort owed her their life. Jumin respected her and trusted her judgment, he would do anything she ordered him to.

“Rika is asking for you,” Yoosung informed him one evening, when it was his turn to keep watch on the northern tower. The younger boy nodded at the semi-automatic rifle in his hands. “I’ll take care of this. Go.”

“What does she want? And it’s _Commander_ Rika for you, boy,” Jumin corrected as he got to his feet, dusting his coat and giving his weapon to him. “We use formal address when we’re on duty.”

“We are always on duty these days. There’s no difference,” Yoosung bit back as he positioned himself, crouching at the corner of the tower like Jumin did a few seconds ago. “And I have no idea what she wants, but you better hurry. She hates waiting.”

Jumin climbed down the rusty stairs until he reached the ground. He shivered as the bitter Siberian wind blew past him, bringing with it eternal ashes from their surroundings. It was the beginning of what he predicted to be their worst winter so far, and he was anxious on what Commander Rika had in mind to survive _this_ one. Last year had been ugly. He refused to call the necessary reduction a massacre, but Jumin (as were everyone else) would be more than happy not to execute such procedure ever again.

Snow crunched under his boots as he made his way between the grey barracks. Their silent, barren façade making it as though nobody was living there, but in reality there were around four to five hundred people in each, huddling together trying to stay alive in the cold, unforgiving weather. Jumin hugged himself, his breaths came in thick fog in front of his face.

The Commander’s office was located inside a two-story building at the center of the Fort. Being the only building with its own source of electricity, it also hosted the important facilities such as the hospital, the storage, and the telecommunication system. Jumin pushed its double door open, making his way through the vacant hallway, and stopped in front of a closed door next to the grimy stairs heading to the clinic. He knocked twice, waiting for a response.

“Enter,” a muffled voice from the inside. He turned the doorknob and led his way inside.

The room was cold and dim-lighted. A youthful-looking female was sitting in a large chair with papers spread about the desk she sat behind. Her uniform was pristine, all attributes attached like she just got back from an important ceremony and had no time to take them off. Her blonde hair was pulled in a tight bun, making her looked sterner and older than her age.

“Ma’am,” he straightened his back and saluted. He kept his eyes focused on her and not paying attention to the… _thing_ that stood in attention next to her, silent but alert like a guard dog.

Commander Rika nodded in acknowledgment and he put his hand down. “Jumin. I have an assignment for you,” she started without preamble. He nodded.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“I just received a message from the UN and the Red Cross. They are sending us another batch of logistics.” Her eyes flickered at the mention of those two organizations. It was no secret that she held certain resentment against them, a resentment worsened by the fact that she grew more and more dependent on their aid. “Your order is to take the logistic from the port and bring it back to the camp, as per usual.”

He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”

He had been assigned to this routine trice before. He knew the rules. Picking up of logistic was a group task. Commaner Rika would pick a team leader by calling them to her office. The team leader then picked two other members to go with him in a six-hour night drive to the Port of Busan, picked up the cargo, then drove back to the mountain where their fort was located, also at night. The mission only had two parameters—get the cargo back as soon as you can and stay alive—but even then there were failed teams whom never made it back.

Jumin was running a list of his usual teammates (Yoosung, Zen, Saeyoung, or the girls, M.C. and Kang) when Commander Rika, as if reading his mind, continued.

“You don’t need to take anyone this time. I have assigned you a partner.”

Jumin caught a movement from the corner of his left eye. He jumped, pulled his gun from the holster, and pointed at the direction, just in time to see a figure emerged from the shadows.

His stomach lurched. He swallowed the bile that suddenly rose up in his throat.

_What the hell—_

“Put your gun down, Jumin. You’re not going to shoot my precious asset,” Commander Rika’s cold, unamused command filtered through the pounding in his ears. He maintained his stance, aiming at the _thing_ ’s head, until Commander Rika growled, more dangerous this time, “Jumin. Put it _down_.”

He reluctantly obeyed her. The thing in front him moved forward with cautious steps, like a beast tamer approaching a wounded lion, its hands raised in surrender. Jumin couldn’t stand to look at it. He glared at her angrily.

“With all due respect, Ma’am, _what the fuck are you—_ “

“Save your profanity for yourself, Jumin Han,” she snapped. “You should be thankful. _He_ was the first to success after Saeran. I am giving you the honor to be his partner and trainer. As you see with my Saeran, he’ll become an excellent soldier—a soldier that will listen to _your_ command.”

Jumin stared at his commander in disbelief. Standing next to her, her “soldier” Saeran stared at him with that prickling blank stare, a bloodthirsty doll ready to activate in a single command. Its dead pale skin stood in contrast to the dark, as was the red scars on his— _its­—_ neck.

“I refuse,” Jumin gritted through his teeth, “I will do whatever you command, but you can’t make deal with _it_.” He still refused to look at the thing standing only meters away from him.

“Too bad. If you refuse I would have to destroy it,” she said nonchalantly, “And I’m sure you’re smarter than letting it happens.”

“You are not going to waste your own asset. You said it yourself.”

“Jumin,” she sighed, as though she was an exasperated teacher trying to teach her handful pupil, “He’s _programmed_ to be your companion. It wouldn’t work out with anyone else. If you refuse, he’s as good as dead.” She frowned at him almost chidingly, “I and him, we worked hard to make him as he is now. You wouldn’t want to make that effort gone to waste, would you?” She turned her head toward the thing. “You want to work with Jumin, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

God, it even _talked_. It had a very human voice too. Jumin glanced at Saeran. It was creepy in its impassiveness but at least it didn’t talk. When these creatures didn’t talk it was easy to differentiate them. They weren’t human. Not anymore.

“It’s a pleasure to serve with you, Jumin.”

 He snapped his head at the mention of his name. The thing smiled at him, a gentle, honest smile; and Jumin had to use all his willpower not to hurl right then and there. _This is sick_. Aside from his—its—corpse-pale skin and foggy eyes, it looked very human. Its slender frame was wrapped in a casual outfit of jacket and pants; its sea-colored hair combed neatly, almost covering its left eye; and its face—God its face—it moved and smiled and blinked in oh-so-human way.

“What’s your name?” Jumin heard someone asked, then realized it was himself. The thing cocked its head to the side.

“I am called V,” it answered. “Nice to meet you. I hope we can be good partners.” It raised a hand to shake, its movement fluid and natural. Jumin didn’t budge. V waited for an awkward second, then lowered its hand and bowed slightly. Jumin thought, if only it had normal blood flow, it would have blushed.

“I see you have made your acquaintance,” Commander Rika said nonchalantly. Jumin almost forgot she was there. “Now. I want you to leave tonight, you can take whichever route you think is best. I’ll leave the details for you to discuss. Just get back intact.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” V answered.

“This is your first assignment, V. I’m expecting the best from you,” she said pointedly. And then, at Jumin, she raised her eyebrow. “Jumin?”

He thinned his lips. _Trust her judgment_. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

.

.

.     

The world was ending in the hands of the undead. To defeat the undead, they created super soldier. What a time to be alive.

Saeran was the first. He was Saeyoung’s twin, before the whole apocalypse business started. They were Jumin’s juniors by four years at the Intelligence Division of ROK Army and had yet to have real a dead-or-alive combat experience. This mysterious plague outbreak was their first.

They were deployed to defend Busan along with one thousand two hundred other soldiers. At first, it seemed like fate was on their side. After a 24-hour battle they managed to seal Busan and the neighboring towns off the undead, and the government informed them that they were working on the plague’s antidote. More soldiers were sent to aid them, they started to arrange the refugees into safety groups and treated the wounded. It was a nightmare while it lasted, but it was going to be over soon.

Or so they thought.

Three days into the crisis there hadn’t been any news from the upper chain of commands. Jumin and his comrades did their routine, keeping watch on the borders, daily examinations, working on the inventory logs. They didn’t hear much about the world outside their post, but maybe this was a national-scale disaster in its literal meaning—as in the whole country was brought down by it—so the people in charge needed more time for evacuation plan. The international organizations couldn’t do much either, since it was a virus outbreak and the best they could do was to quarantine the whole country before it spread over the world.

So they waited.

And waited.

And waited….

…Until another outbreak occurred inside their perimeter. In one day the safe city of Busan became another city of the undead. They sent the remaining survivors to Ulsan, and then fled again until they settled in this military base in the mountain of South Gyeongsang—a remote, hard-to-access facility in the middle of nowhere which prevented the aid squads to get them (not that they tried too hard).

As if it wasn’t enough, infection after infection kept plaguing their dwindling community. Commander Rika, the highest rank among them, was forced to make terrible decision over and over again until she got used to it. That included eliminating her own infected men.

Saeran was one of them.

Jumin couldn’t forget that day even if he tried. Saeyoung, trashing in his arms calling for his brother while the infected boy was dragged into the execution building growling and drooling, half of his mind already gone. They heard a shot, its sound echoed in the night and vibrated along their spine. Saeyoung slumped in his arms as if he was the one losing his life.

The next week, when he was called to Commander Rika’s office to accept his next assignment, he saw Saeran—or, the morbid version of him, pale skin, white blank eyes, silent stance—and Commander Rika introduced him as the “super soldier”, a creature with the strength and speed equal to ten men, without pain receptor, and without thirst for human flesh (although the last one still needed further research). They had field-tested it, to Saeyoung’s anguish, and got a satisfying result. Commander Rika was obsessed with the super soldier project since, and had been constantly using infected people as a guinea pig.

Now, it seemed, she had managed to make another one.

Jumin walked briskly along the corridor, wanting nothing more than to run away. He wanted to run somewhere, anywhere, run until he managed to escape this nightmare, until the hurried steps behind him faded into nothing. He wanted to run to a life where all this never happened.

“Jumin, wait!”

V followed him and even from his— _its_ —voice he could tell it was wearing this sad, kicked puppy expression that shouldn’t have suited an undead face. Jumin halted, turned on his heels, and faced the thing right before it ran up to him.

“Stop following me!”

He had meant to yell, but he didn’t mean it to sound _that_ loud. His voice echoed though the long, empty corridor, and V flinched so hard like he had slapped it.

“I’m sorry,” V said, sounding dejected. Its face morphed into that of sadness and confusion and _hurt_ , like a child being told they were going to have a new friend only to find out the new friend didn’t even like them. Jumin wasn’t prepared for this. He wasn’t prepared to see that kind of face, so human and so alive, in contrast with those pale lips and white eyes and unmoving chest and—

He felt the content of his stomach lurched to his throat and this time he had no time to swallow it. Jumin grappled to reach the window, slid it open, and threw up on the grey snow bellow. He retched, vomited, pouring what he had what he didn’t have like he was trying to cleanse himself. Half of his body stuck outside the window with only his trembling hands supported him on the windowsill, until he felt bony arm grasped at his chest like a plank and a soothing hand massaging the back of his neck.

“There, there. It’s alright. Just let it out.”

The voice was calm, kind, full of warmth that reminded Jumin of the home he never had. He blinked the tears in his eyes, it dripped to the snow with another slimy bitter substance from his mouth, and another, and another, until there was nothing left.            


End file.
